A Rebellious Spirit: Daniel Tracey

By Evelyn Dreiling

A poor Irish farmer, Daniel Tracey of Tipperary, finds himself fleeing to America in 1815 on a deportation vessel alongside a number of migrant fishermen bound for the annual fishing season which takes place every spring and summer in the lucrative fishing waters off the coast of Newfoundland. He overcomes many struggles in his desire to settle on a homestead in St. John's while working in the fishing sheds alongside numerous other Irish immigrants. His son obtains a scholarship to study for the priesthood at the St. Sulpice monastery in Montreal, and eventually moves to St. Colomban, a newly settled village near St. Jerome north of Montreal. He becomes acquainted with Doctor Daniel Tracey, a fiery orator and editor of The Vindicator, a newspaper that helps inspire a rebellious movement, the Patriotes, and challenges the British Parliament to root out the oppressive and elitist politicos in the unelected Legislative Assembly in Lower Canada in 1832. Dr. Tracey wins the election in Montreal West by a hair's breath but succumbs to cholera during the terrible epidemic of 1832. Daniel eventually takes up the torch and ends up in a life and death struggle at the Battle of St. Eustache in the 1837 Rebellion. The Patriote Rebellion unfortunately ended in a dismal failure, but the event sparked reforms in Upper and Lower Canada which led to the modern, democratic form of government which Canadians enjoy today. This is a work of historical fiction; it has been carefully researched and presents a record of the events of the early 19th century in Canada.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Dreiling
• Release date: Aug 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301410040

Evelyn Dreiling

Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling has recently retired from the Public Service where she worked at National Defence for 10 years. She has pursued a two-year program of Commercial Art at Concordia University, Montreal, Quebec and Nursing at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Montreal. She has taught watercolour courses and enjoys doing watercolor images for her book covers and other sketches. She spent many years travelling and living in parts of Canada and the United States. She now makes her home in North Vancouver, BC, where she lives near her two adult children and her daughter-in-law. She always had a great love of books, and is particularly interested in Canadian history, which she attempts to portray through the lives of ordinary people and their stories; she is an avid researcher and will no doubt will be working on another historical fiction novel soon.

Book preview

A Rebellious Spirit: Daniel Tracey

by

Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling

*

Copyright by Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling - 2013

Smashwords Edition

Cover: Illustration by Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling - August 2013

Dr. Daniel Tracey delivering a campaign speech on an unfinished monument base in Place d'Armes, Montreal, in 1832. Background shows the old Notre Dame church with the new Notre Dame church under construction beside it. Bottom of image shows typical log cabin in the village of St. Colomban, Quebec, near St. Jerome - in early 19th century.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Registry Index

Chapter One - Traceys in Ireland

Chapter Two - Bound for America

Chapter Three - Montreal, 1825

Chapter Four - Lead-up to a Rebellion - 1828

Chapter Five - Dr. Tracey Runs for Office 1832

Chapter Six - St. Colomban, Mid 1830s

Chapter Seven - Michael Tracey - 1835

Chapter Eight - The Rebellion of 1837-8

Chapter Nine - The Rebellion breaks out - Lower Canada, 1837

Chapter Ten - Grosse Ile and the Great Famine

Chapter Eleven - After the Rebellion - Changes in Government

Epilogue - Family Ties

About the Author

Endnotes

Bibliography and Suggested Reading

Introduction

They came by ship by the thousands to the New World, to their promised land; they came with fear and trepidation which they kept firmly hidden whilst they boasted of great plans for the future; they came with hesitation while promises of free land for those willing to work the soil beckoned, land which they could actually own, something unheard of in the landlord-ruled English monarchist system.

They came from ports along the coast of Ireland, England and Scotland, from ports where the mighty two and three-masted ships and barques with increasing regularity from Liverpool, Portsmouth, Plymouth, Galway, Cork, Waterford, Dublin, Limerick, and a host of others; they came to bring something positive in their lives.

And they left to escape endless brutality: Catholics escaping the Penal Laws, the Corn Laws, and oppression by the powerful English and their relentless drive to subjugate the Papists; impoverished tenants escaping the ever-rising rents of absentee landlords; and the heartless, demeaning evictions by the landed gentry.

Expelled by landlords unwilling to pay taxes on small, impoverished tenancies, where sheep were deemed more valuable than people, transported by workhouses full to bursting with starving farmers, they pursued a dream recounted time and time again by those who had already made their way to this promising young country where feudalism was being replaced by a new American ideal: Freedom. They heard their stories of fruitful harvests, bountiful land, fine sturdy homes, opportunities everywhere. And they kept on coming.

Registry Index

"Daniel Tracey, born 1786 in Tipperary, Ireland; died 1837 in Quebec (Lower Canada). Married Frances Manning (Mahning), born in Ireland. This is the available information obtained from the Tracey Clan website, as well as on the official record in the Catholic parish of St. Colomban, a small parish in northern Quebec, about 50 miles north of Montreal. The son of Daniel and Frances include Michael Tracey, born 1819, and Daniel, born 1834. Other children are not listed in this record:

Michael Tracey, (born ?), Ireland. Son of Daniel Tracey and Frances Manning. Married Mary McCarthy (born 1822) on November 7, 1843 in St. Colomban parish. They had several children. Note that the dates given may indicate the date of baptism:

Daniel Tracey, (born July 27, 1844) This son may have died young (died September 25, 1844) according to the records in the St. Colomban parish register;

John Tracey (born/baptized July 17, 1845);

James Tracey (born/baptized March 4, 1847);

Ellen Tracey (born/baptized December 6, 1848);

Elizabeth Tracey (born April 23, 1851 - baptized May 22, 1851);

Martin Tracey (born/baptized May 19, 1854);

Michael Daniel Tracey (born/baptized July 25, 1856);

Margaret Tracey, (born June 4, 1858);

Patrick Tracey, (born/baptized March 16, 1860; died 19 days later);

Michael Tracey, (born/baptized April 24, 1862).

Daniel Tracey, (born 1834 in St. Colomban, Quebec, Canada), son of Daniel Tracey and Frances Manning.

Chapter One - Traceys in Ireland

Our story begins in Tipperary County, that beautiful place in the Midwestern part of Ireland immortalized in the World War One song and described in countless other stories. The farmers and tradesmen of the early 19th century struggled under the yoke of English domination and were constantly set upon by unscrupulous landlords. The laws enacted to suppress the Irish Catholics had a powerful influence over these disenfranchised souls who could barely eke out a living. They may have been surrounded by the beauty and charm of the Emerald Isle but they found it difficult to contemplate when they were so hungry most of the time.

Young Daniel, Ireland in 1815

Danny couldn't face another day of walking the roads. It had been weeks since he and his wife, Frances had abandoned their little hut in the farmlands near Cashel when the rent on their two-acre plot had been raised for the third time this summer. They knew it was just a matter of time before the malicious evictors would arrive to tear down their little stone hut; already so many of their neighbours had left under similar circumstances. Those who struggled to hang on lived in fear that they could face the wrath of the landlords any day. And as Danny and Frances trudged along slowly, they passed many of their former neighbours who could barely walk, who were completely exhausted and starved; but they had to keep going. Those who stopped fell by the wayside, never to rise again.

Their beautiful little village, once a thriving farming area where potato plants grew thickly on the side of every hill and along every pathway, was now stark, with occasional patches of dried, black leaves that made the whole area look more like a stinking bog.

They knew that the last meagre pickings of the recent harvest were gone, and the potatoes that were left were blackened, giving off a sickly odour that spread over the entire farming area. They had hung on for a couple of years when the terrible blight ruined everybody's crops, but years later they had to face facts; nothing was going to change. Their new crop was not going to yield enough to feed them over the winter, let alone pay the rent for a single month. Yet the proctor refused to hear their lament, citing only the authority of English law to extract payment from their tenants, with the usual threats and admonishments. Tired and hungry, their backs stiff and sore, their shuffling gait slowed more and more; they were fast losing hope of finding someone with a crust to spare for their evening meal.

They passed near the grey and forbidding workhouse, where the administrators of the Poor Laws had created shelter for the destitute, and they knew that their only hope of obtaining relief lay with confinement within the high walls of these sordid, cold and miserable buildings. They tried to approach, hoping someone would have a spare bowl of thin soup, but were chased away by the overseer. If they wanted to be admitted, they would have to give up their independence and live surrounded by the other poor souls - whole families huddled together for warmth, the old, ill, the unemployed, and hundreds of children, dependent on the tax money paid grudgingly by the parish land holders. The end of the Napoleonic Wars had left many workers unemployed, and since the introduction of the Corn Laws in 1815 which artificially maintained the high prices of grain, both made food far too costly. Coupled with the failing harvests, these oppressive laws imposed dispassionately by their English betters were having a devastating effect on the Irish peasants.

Yet Danny and Frances always lived with the hope that things might improve if they could just hang on a bit longer.

----

It was the beginning of a new century. In the farming areas around Cashel in north Tipperary, many small villages were filled with tenant farmers. These two-acre farms were portioned out from the large plots of land bequeathed to the Anglo-Irish, English citizens who distinguished themselves in empire-building England. The little stone huts were crowded close together, each sagging roof propped up with bales of straw with one large hole at one end to serve as a chimney. The blackened interiors of their single room were cozy and warm. The locals grew up with the legends of the nearby Rock of Cashel where, according to the story passed on from generation to generation by the village storyteller, St. Patrick banished Satan from a cave, resulting in a rock landing in Cashel. The imposing old castle, although long since gutted during the anti-papist frenzy, still stood tall on the sloping hill overseeing the town.

Danny remembered their old tenancy well, as he thought about Frances who was once a real beauty - tall and shapely, with an air of confidence about her. In contrast, what Danny lacked in stature he more than made up for with a strong, determined manner who was always ready to take up the fight if he was being slighted. He had an angular, craggy face, with a thick shock of unruly reddish-brown hair and grey eyes.

After he left Tipperary, he did occasional farming on his little two-acre plot alotted to him by the British War Office; he had served with the Royal Artillery Drivers for close to thirteen years as a cavalry driver for the small canons used in the field of battle and was on his way to earning a special merit for his long service; he was looking forward to his discharge the following year. He became a neighbour to the Mahnings who owned a two-acre plot on which they did subsistence farming, just enough to pay the rents to the landlord and keep their family going.

Danny was plowing up a row for his potato planting. He was straining awkwardly with his little wooden plow to keep his mule moving forward to keep the row straight and the furrow deep, when he spotted a moppet with a full head of reddish-golden hair racing down the side of the hills, laughing. She was being chased by her sister, Frances, who was waving a cook pot at her and yelling. He had known Frances since childhood, but for some reason he had ignored the fact that, with her slight upturned nose and lovely blue eyes, she had blossomed into a fine-looking woman. But he vowed that, from this day on, he would look on her differently, perhaps with an idea to making her his wife.

Danny called out to her, but she kept chasing Shelia who was running and laughing, heedless of his calls.

Frances he said what are you doing ? a lot more forcefully.

This time she turned to him, and, seeing his determined stance, decided that she must find out what he wanted. Then she turned to her sister again, who was crying out:

Ye must save me from the witch, or I'll be burnt in that stew pot surely she called out.

Danny smiled, then turned to Frances.

Settle yourselves, will you ? Whatever it is, I'm sure she meant no harm. he said.

Why don't you mind yer own bloody business Danny. she yelled out. Frances stopped, then wheeled around: Every night 'tis the same. She is supposed to help me wash the clumper pot and she always runs off, leaving me to do it all by myself she said angrily.

The two sisters argued until their mother Mary stepped out to see what all the commotion was. By then, all the little Mahnings were stirred up, running around the hut merrily.

Get in here, you two, or I'll see to it ye'll both be scrubbing all night, washing and all she hollered. She ushered all the children in to prepare for bed.

Danny looked back and smiled, as the two girls, with pigtails coming undone, walked solemnly back to their hut. He loved a spirited lady, and this young Frances surely had spirit to spare.

----

Danny recalled how he had to confront Mrs. Mahning when he asked to begin courting Frances with the idea of marriage. She was the head of the family now, her husband having died a few years ago. Times were hard for her and her little brood, and she was fortunate to have two grown sons who could take over the farm work.

Mrs. Mahning objected to the Traceys in principle, as they had earned a poor reputation over the years in those parts. None of the Traceys were known to hold back when a fight was brewing, Years ago, Thomas Tracey was forcibly transported to Australia for highway robbery and murder; and an uncle, Daniel Tracey, was in jail for taking part in an uprising at Borris around twenty years ago, for which he was severely punished.i And she was understandably afraid for Frances. But Frances was in love with Danny, and was determined, and her mother finally had to give in to her protestations. At least there would be one less mouth to feed. But she did require something from Danny; she insisted that he had to obtain a second two-acre pot of land for the Mahnings as proof of his loyalty and faithfulness.

----

Ireland in the late 18th century was a lucrative destination for absentee landlords, special appointees of the King who were rewarded for various acts of benefit to the Crown. In England's attempt to maintain their dominion of Ireland, these Anglo-Irish as they came to be known were planted in Ireland to ensure that these citizens would be loyal to the Crown. These new owners were allocated thousands of acres of land which they then parcelled out in two-acre plots to tenants who would pay them a yearly rent. One of the most infamous of these landlords was Major Denis Mahon, the owner of Stokestown House in Roscommon, Tipperary. He owned a huge acreage which he leased out to 11,000 tenants. As these Catholic Irish tenants had had their land removed with the imposition of the penal lawsii, they had no choice but to raise enough extra crops and animals to pay these rents. And the rents kept going up every year to satisfy the posh lifestyle of the landowners.

For Danny, the notion of obtaining an additional two acres of land to satisfy his new Mother-in-law was quite difficult. Since the imposition of the Penal Laws, Catholics could not own land. His only option was to grant her his own plot which he had recently received for his military service, after his Father, Michael Tracey, died a few years before. But at least Danny and Frances could begin their new life together.

Frances settled into married life; she was a happy new bride, loving and full of life, and Danny adored her. When she announced that she was pregnant, Danny was overjoyed, and the whole family celebrated. But within a few months, Frances was becoming uneasy; having watched her mother give birth to several of her siblings, she knew that she should be feeling the faint stirrings of life around four months into the pregnancy. She decided to talk it over with her Mother.

Her Mother knew that a steady diet of potatoes was good for keeping the family fed but it didn't fare well for pregnant mothers. And in recent years the scarcity of food was taking its toll on the poor peasants. The local Doctor tried to suggest that she eat more meat and that she get her rest, while knowing that such a thing was clearly impossible for these poor peasants. Frances was afraid that her beloved Danny would be disappointed in her if something happened to her child, and she tried to keep her secret for as long as she could.

One day, she was out in the fields when she started to feel a bit dizzy; then she felt a huge cramp that caused her to double over. She screamed, and her sister heard her and immediately ran off for her mother.

Oh Frances, what is it ? her Mother cried with an anguished tone as she ran out to the field. But what she suspected proved to be true; Frances was losing her unborn child.

Frances was brought into her old home and laid upon the straw mattress. The pains were unrelenting and her sisters watched in anguish. An ugly stain formed between her legs - blood.

Oh Ma, I'm so worried that I might not be able to have any more children after this. It would break Danny's heart she sobbed.

Her mother held her arm brusquely, and told her to hush. Sadly, within a couple of hours it was all over; the horribly malformed little baby was quickly bundled up and buried under a pile of straw. Everyone was crying.

Danny was down to the local pub. During the frequent gatherings at this pub the conversations turned from simple camaraderie to more serious topics these days. The oppressive laws imposed by the British Parliament were being felt throughout Ireland and especially in the Catholic-dominated counties like Tipperary, where the Protestants, who feared being overrun had imposed their dominance on the hapless Catholics. These Penal Laws were laid down over many years, and had the effect of barring Catholics from voting, from holding office, from owning property, from inheriting property, from receiving an education, from owning books, and the list goes on. And the people had had enough; they were starting to rebel, encouraged by the repeal of Na Péindlíthe, the Penal Laws (which were not taking effect as quickly as they could be depending on the mood and temperament of the various magistrates) and the rise of such stalwart heroes as Daniel O`Connell. Already there was talk of a new concept - Home Rule. There had already been several incidents on the roads, where little gangs of rebels attempted to disrupt the movements of the hated English landlords and their cohorts.

Danny was thinking about all of this but when he approached the farm, he sensed that something was not right; it was too quiet. He hurried, calling out for Frances as he ran to the old house. As he approached the door, he saw the sombre looks on the faces of the Mahning children. He felt a horrible gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. He saw Frances, looking so pale and drawn and rushed over to the bed where he grabbed Frances' arm and cried out to her.

Fran, Fran, are you alright ? What happened ? he cried.

She could only shed large tears that tumbled out of her deep blue eyes. It's the baby, Danny. I'm so sorry she sobbed, and couldn't continue.

Oh Fran, as long as you are alright, it doesn't matter. Really it doesn't he said, although he did feel a pang of regret.

As he turned to face Mrs. Mahning, she looked at him soberly and said:

"It 'twer a boy,